A Thousand Miles From Home
by Black Alnair
Summary: And he is a thousand miles from home. Draco / Ginny. COMPLETE.


**Title**: A Thousand Miles From Home

**Pairing**: Draco / Ginny

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N**: I'm out of practice. But here goes...

* * *

It's only a matter of seconds to travel the length of continents, to return home, to be whole again, with the assistance of a wand.

But Draco hasn't had a wand in years, would probably splich himself in half if he tried an Apparition spell. Instead, he stands on the wrong side of the sea, the edge of his feet just over the sea wall, letting the wind, salty and bitter, carry off his thoughts towards a past he was forced to leave behind and a future he will never have.

* * *

A familiar face often makes him seize up in cold fear but he has learned that there are no familiar faces, just illusions. So as he leaves the bustle of the marketplace, the glimpse of freckles and red hair feels like cold water pouring through his veins, but he forces himself to shake his head, and continue on, balancing his coffee and groceries.

When she actually comes up to him, close enough so he can actually feel her, he has already accepted that she is not there.

"Draco," she chastises.

"You're not here," he tells her.

* * *

He pretends no one can find him on the dark side of the lake. That there is no war tearing at the seams of all that was, is and will be, that he is still a child playing foolish games, brandishing a play wand that can do no harm and there are no lives hanging in the balance, least of all, his parents'.

"Stop this."

She is either very brave or very stupid. She is Gryffindor, after all.

He barely takes in her red hair, wild and tangled behind her, and the steely look in her brown eyes. "I could send you to detention for breaking curfew." His threat has no spirit behind it.

"But you won't." She is far too sure. "I was wrong about you, Malfoy. You're also wrong about yourself."

It is her words that save him from the Kiss. He doesn't even consider it could've been his actions.

* * *

It is the fourth time before he accepts she is there. She takes a drink of his coffee. Always taking things that aren't hers to have. Like his heart. Like his sentence. He would've had no sorrow, no pain, no longing.

"There is Firewhiskey in this!" she exclaims after she forces herself to swallow.

He shrugs. "For courage to face the day."

She looks pensively at the coffee in her hand.

"You drank some that day you helped us." It is not a question.

* * *

He used to think that he was too cowardly to face death – he has never pretended he was a hero – but now he thinks death is the easy way out. All he has to do is let go.

So years later, she will be wrong. Liquid courage is not needed to face his end. For him, the world has always been upside down.

But before it all, he feeds information to the Aurors, he sneaks weapons to the enemy, and at the last battle, he does something very stupid, very brave and very unlike him. He saves her life.

But she can't save his. His father is sentenced to Azkaban, his mother is left a shell of her former self, and he is banished from the only home he has ever known.

* * *

The breeze blows, much warmer here in France than it would have been in England, warmer than many of the other destinations he's been in the past six years. He faces it, not sure what he is looking for. He is never sure what he is looking for.

She notices. "What are you looking for?" She leans across the bench towards him. He can feel her again.

"Why are you following me?" This is the seventh time in so many days. He knows he should go, find another place to haunt, but he actually _likes _it here.

"Do you know how many countries I've been to just to find a trace of you?"

She wasn't supposed to follow him, to give up so much for him. He meant to leave her behind. "A way forward," he sighs, before taking a drink of his coffee. The alcohol burns at the back of his throat. "I'm looking for a way forward." He wants to tell her to – _stop this _– she is either very brave or very stupid, probably both, Gryffindor and all. Instead, he admits the truth, Firewhiskey to start the day and all. "I don't know what to do so far from home."

She moves closer to her, her red hair in his vision.

"That's silly – I'm right here."

~FIN~


End file.
